Subway Cheese Snob Savors Half A Wheel Of Brie On Evening Commute
Who cut the cheese on the N train last night? This guy. With his bare hands. Tipster Jim from Brooklyn alerted us to this cheesy character, explaining in gruesome detail how this gentleman enjoyed his banquet of Brie during the rush hour commute:
Homeboy was seriously enjoying a half wheel of what must have been a severely aged Brie with crackers. He'd dig his gross fingers into the Brie, dig out a piece, slap on a cracker and throw it down. The Brie was highly fragrant and most straphangers were appalled. He also licked his fingers after each bite (perhaps my biggest pet peeve/gross out move). He got off at Atlantic/Barclay, boarded the R and left the subway at Union St. Clearly Park Slope's finest. It gave me the chills to watch his saliva soaked fingers dive repeatedly into that ripe cheese.
Jim goes on to say this gentlemen took up two seats during prime time underground. This is not France, sir, this is the subway. There are RULES.
Truthfully, any cheesehead will tell you that proper cheese temperature makes all the difference when enjoying some of the world's more fragrant varieties. A Reblochon straight from the fridge lacks the supple creaminess and delicate salinity those farmers in the Alps intended it to; likewise, a Colby left out to sit too long can begin to sweat like a bro getting' swole on the M train.
Clearly this is a cheese hound in the know—is that the Times dining section he's also eagerly devouring?—and he wasn't going to let a little thing like proximity to hundreds of other souls in a tiny steel box get in the way of his perfectly ripe after work snack. Someone get this man a beer.
It's difficult not to heed to call of the hankering: